


Any Way That You Like

by Hllangel



Series: Not in my head, in yours [1]
Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, Just Roll With It, M/M, PWP, Telepathic Sex, Telepathy, unexplained telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 07:36:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hllangel/pseuds/Hllangel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>The concert's nearly over when Harry feels it, the telltale signs of Nick in his head. Nick must just be waking up, since they're in California now. Nick is definitely awake earlier than usual, though. </i>
</p><p>Or, Nick is a bastard of a boyfriend, and Harry loves attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any Way That You Like

**Author's Note:**

> Inspiration for this from ymorton's post [here](http://ihavea1dbloghelp.tumblr.com/post/76449140559/nick-harry-4-and-or-8). The idea got under my skin, and while I have more planned for this particular universe, for now you just get some porn. 
> 
> Beta by [_thelostcity](http://archiveofourown.org/users/thelostcity/pseuds/_thelostcity%22). Thanks to the wonderful [Paperclipbitch](http://archiveofourown.org/users/paperclipbitch/pseuds/paperclipbitch) who despite not being in this fandom is a wonderful cheerleader/sounding board. 
> 
> Apologies if I've used your twitter handle, I just made one up and didn't check to see if it exists. It probably does. 
> 
> This is a work of fiction. I claim no knowledge of the non-public lives of the people I've written about. If they ever find this, I'm so sorry.
> 
> Come find me on tumblr! [Glitterbootsandyellowshorts](http://glitterbootsandyellowshorts.tumblr.com)

The concert's nearly over when Harry feels it, the telltale signs of Nick in his head. Nick must just be waking up, since they're in California now. Nick is definitely awake earlier than usual, though.

 _What are you doing? You should be sleeping,_ Harry says when he's not singing. 

He can hear the smirk when Nick answers, _Woke up early. Miss you._ A moment later, a question. _How long until you're finished?_

Harry can't answer until he finishes the last notes of Live While We're Young. _A few songs, then a few more for the encore. Plus the bits between._

 _I'll have to leave for work then,_ Nick complains. _And I miss you now._

Louis's saying something to the crowd, but Harry isn't paying much attention. _Go hug Puppy, then. I'm busy just now._

 _Not that kind of missing you,_ Nick says, and then Harry can _feel_ exactly what Nick means. His cheeks flush, but hopefully no one will think it's unusual. The stage lights are pretty warm, and they're running around in the mid-summer California heat.

Niall catches his eye and Harry has to look away, which just leads Niall to crowd closer and whisper, "You're talking to him, aren't you?" in Harry's ear, low enough that the mics don't pick it up. Harry looks away, and Niall pinches his nipple, which just gets Zayn's attention, and he comes around to smack Harry on the arse. 

_This is so unfair_ Harry complains, letting Nick feel the lingering stings from the lads' pokes. _Leave me alone I've got to finish the show._

_Ungrateful brat. I'll give you a show._

It's incredibly bad timing that they've just started in on _Rock Me_. Harry can't help but remember the show Nick came to when they were still in London, carrying the _Rock Me Harry_ sign while he played with his friend's children and still managed to keep up a running commentary at Harry. Nick's always been a terrible distraction and during the show Harry had ended up singing at him more often than he paid attention to the rest of the audience. 

And that was before Harry had let his more inappropriate thoughts about Nick slip out. He's regretting every remotely nice thought he's ever had about Nick right now; even though Nick's using his radio voice in Harry's head, and his idea of dirty talk is absolutely ridiculous and self-mocking, Harry is getting aroused, on stage, in front of hundreds of fans. 

_I've got you, haven't I?_ Nick asks. 

Harry wants to kiss the smirk right off his face, force him to be _quiet_ , but he's many thousands of miles too far away to do that, and he knows Nick well enough that telling him not to do something is just going to make it worse. There's nothing to do but go on with the concert and try to ignore Nick. 

Not that that's ever worked for him before, but all the old sayings talk about perseverance and not giving up and stuff, so it's worth another shot. Maybe it'll work this time. 

It doesn't. Nick is singing along, tone deaf even in his own head, but Harry can feel him settling back against the pillows in his bed back home, hands slipping into his pants, palming his cock as he gets hard, and singing along with Harry. It's a damn good thing that Harry knows his part on this song so well, because he's fighting with Nick for control of his own mind. If he's a little bit more breathless than usual from running around the stage then no one has to know why. 

Nick pinches his nipples as they launch into _She's not afraid_. He's not singing anymore, but he's got a running commentary going comprised half of radio-voice narration of what he's doing, like Harry can't actually feel Nick's thumb running over the head of his cock, or his legs falling open so that Nick can slide a lube-slick finger over his hole, and half of sarcastic comments about the songs they're singing. 

_You're not afraid of all the attention, are you, Popstar?_ Nick asks. It's absolutely rhetorical, because Harry loves it. If he's honest with himself this is the best and worst thing that Nick's ever done to him. _You love the attention, don't you? Every eye in the house on you, while I get you off in secret._

Nick knows him all too well. 

_You've been planning this,_ Harry accuses, though he can't quite manage to keep the falsely bitter accusation in his thoughts. He's fairly sure he comes across as more excited than anything else. 

_You can't prove it_ , Nick says, which is how Harry knows that he's done exactly that. 

They've got one more round of twitter questions before the last song, which is generally the time when the lads get more rowdy and rude than usual, and he can already tell that tonight's going to be no exception. He can see Niall whispering in Louis' ear, and doesn't miss the way they're both looking at him while he scrolls through his twitter mentions to find questions. He can't find any, but that's not because there aren't good ones, but rather because Nick is distracting him with questions he can't answer. 

_What's your worst fantasy?_ Nick asks, like he doesn't know already. _How soon after you get home will I get to fuck you?_ Of course, Nick asks this as he slides two of his long fingers into himself, and Harry can feel the echoing ghost of his touch. 

"Harry, you're not paying attention to me." Louis' annoyed voice breaks through the sensation of Nick just under his skin. 

"That's because you never say anything important." Harry launches himself at Louis in an attempt to tackle him, and to distract himself for a few seconds. Louis very neatly sidesteps the attempt and Harry ends up on his back on the stage, while Niall looks down at him and laughs. 

"1D5eva asked you what the first thing you're going to do when you go back to London," Louis plows on, ignoring the fact that Harry is just sitting on the ground. 

He can't actually say what he's going to do, because he's planning on tackling Nick into his overly fluffy bed right away. Instead, he says, "Fall into bed for a few days," he says. "Then probably go visit my mum and sister." 

An "awwwww" ripples around the amphitheater, causing the screams to die down for half a second. The momentary pause causes a physical sense of relief to wash over Harry, but in it's wake he can feel Nick even more than before. He immediately wants the noise back or he's not going to make it. 

He drapes himself on the stairs with a water bottle and watches Niall and Liam square off in a competition of terrible dance moves. It isn't long before he realizes that staying still was the worst possible thing that he could have done. If he's not distracted with trying to do his damn job, Nick can worm his way even further into Harry's head. _So close, Harold,_ Nick says. _Want you here with me._

Harry launches himself off the steps and at Zayn, hip-checking him and drawing the attention of everyone else. Liam tackles him, and Harry drags his mic away from his mouth as he groans, because the pressure of Liam on top of him is a bit too much. At least he's face down on the floor, which means he can get at least a tiny bit of friction on his dick without being too obvious about it. 

Liam sits on Harry's back and leads the way into the next, and last, song. "I think it's time for our last song of the night, since we're clearly about to devolve into a scrum, which isn't what you lot paid for." Liam stands up after that, and Harry lets himself drag his hips one more time against the stage before he stands up, too, making the motion look as natural as he can, and moving over to his mark as Zayn starts singing. 

He nearly messes up his lyrics (not that this is anything new) because Nick is back in his head telling Harry that he can get _anything that you want_ , and punctuating the sentiment with his fingers. Harry thinks that letting Nick hear his singing is a really bad idea when Nick starts moving his hands to the beat. 

He sings along with Harry for the last words, and then abruptly stops everything as the lights go down. 

The sudden lack of sensation where he'd been overstimulated before leaves Harry clutching his mic, doubled over with his hands on his knees, breathing heavily where he's standing on stage. When he doesn't move fast enough behind the set pieces, Zayn comes over and starts pushing him so that he's not visible when the house lights come up.

Nick's absence doesn't last, though, because Nick is terrible at cutting off their connection, especially when they have as much adrenaline flowing as they do now. Harry can still feel Nick, every tiny movement of his hand on his cock, working himself in all the ways that Harry likes best. 

He can hear more than see one of the lads or crew coming over to him to see what's wrong, since he's sure he looks a wreck right now. But he can't lose his concentration, they've still got two songs to go on the encore, and he's got to calm down enough to circle back upstairs to his place. He's got about a minute. 

"Harry?" Zayn asks. 

Harry stands up straight, with some effort. He desperately needs to adjust himself, but if he gets a hand anywhere near his dick it's going to be over, and he doesn't have time for a costume change before they're on stage again. "M'alright," he says. "It's just Grimmy." 

"Is he okay?" Zayn asks, concern showing all over his face. He makes a move to come lay a hand on Harry's shoulder, but Harry jerks away before Zayn can touch him. 

"He's dead when we get home," Harry says, broadcasting that back to Nick because that is most definitely the truth. "Sooner if I can arrange it." 

Zayn sweeps an eye over Harry and Harry can see when he gets exactly what's happening, because his eyebrows go up and he takes half a step back. They don't have many boundaries, him and the lads, they live in far too close quarters most of the year for that, but Harry suspects that Zayn realizes exactly how close Harry is right now, and they still have two songs to go. 

Ten minutes. Harry can last another ten minutes, with the help of hundreds of teenaged girls watching him. There are some things that they don't need to see, no matter how many of them say they want to. 

Of course this is when Louis comes up behind him and loops an arm around Harry's waist, dragging him towards the stairs, pulling Harry's shirt up as they move, exposing his stomach to the cool air conditioning below the stage. Harry shivers, breaking out in goosebumps all over. It doesn't help that Nick picks that moment to run a hand over his own stomach, the same strip that is laid bare on Harry. 

Harry has lost complete control on the telepathy, which hasn't happened since the first time they'd tried this, Harry safely locked in a hotel room, having given the other lads strict instructions not to come near him all night. He can feel everything Nick is doing, and knows that Nick can feel everything from him, too, from the drag of his sweaty t-shirt over his skin to how tight and constricting his jeans are, and the desperation Harry is feeling to just get this show _over_ with already, because this is torture. It's also really hot. 

"Right, lads," Louis says, still engaged in the business of dragging Harry to his mark and either oblivious to or uncaring of the effect physical touch is having on Harry, "Almost done! Two more songs and then we run for the bus." 

Harry pushes him away as soon as he's near his mark, their music director counting down from ten in his ear. Nick is still in his head, and Harry can feel how close Nick is, can feel him fingering himself open the way he does to Harry, and Harry wants nothing more than to be in Nick's bed right now, pulling Nick into him. 

Harry bites the inside of his cheek hard, letting the pain wash over him and through to Nick as he stands up straight just in time for the end of the countdown. The screams help buffer the telepathy as they step back out on stage. It's so loud that he can't hear himself think, much less what Nick's thinking. It doesn't block the ghost of Nick's touch, though. 

_You looked so cute in those glasses,_ Nick says, in response to Harry's attempts at blocking him out with Best Song Ever. _And that hair. Wanted to dig my fingers into it, mess it up. Mess you up. Still want that._

If Harry puts a little too much emphasis on _dirty mouth_ the crowd seems to like it. 

By the time they get to _What Makes You Beautiful_ Harry is absolutely vibrating. He can feel how close Nick is, can feel every squeeze Nick is giving himself to keep from coming too soon, can tell that Nick's waiting for him to be done, which is something, at least. Harry isn't sure if he'd be able to hide that on stage. 

The last three minutes of the show seem to last forever. By the time they gather into the final placement, Harry in the middle, arms around each other as much as they can manage and still hold their mics Harry just wants to be off stage. He can't really push the others back without it looking weird. He's got one last bit of singing to do, and he puts everything he has into hitting his notes. 

Of course, his boyfriend is an absolute bastard, and picks the last five seconds of the song to let go, his orgasm ripping through Harry, who is at the center of attention for thousands of people in that exact moment. He holds out the last _beautiful_ as long as he can, which isn't quite as long as normal, but the crowd goes wild anyway. 

Niall slaps Harry on the back and thanks everyone again, and the stage lights go down. There's the sudden roar of thousands of people getting up to go, and in the middle of it, Harry races behind a set piece as fast as he can, dropping the mic and pressing the heel of his hand against his cock, hard. 

_Fuck, Nick!_ He yells into his head. He's blindingly hard and acutely aware of just how close he is to being out in the open. 

He's vaguely aware of the others watching him, but he's got Nick's voice in his head, telling him to, _Come on, let go, want to feel you_. 

Nick is still stroking himself in the aftermath, and Harry is overwhelmed with the dual sensation of Nick being on the edge of too sensitive and his own burning need to come _right now_. He doesn't even care anymore who sees him in this state, he just needs to come. He moves his hand, keeping up the pressure, pressing down on the head of his cock at the same time as Nick does, and that's it. His jaw drops and his head rolls back as he comes, still on stage, even if he's hidden behind the set pieces. 

"Fuck, Harry, we have to go, now," Liam says. Harry's knees are about to give out, and he's not even sure how he's still standing, but he manages to drag his eyes open and blink at Liam. He can't even speak. 

"Little help!" Liam calls, and soon there are several sets of hands unhooking him from the sound equipment, and shoving him down off the stage and towards the exit where their bus is waiting. 

They stumble forward in a mess of arms and legs, and somehow Harry manages to take a seat on the lounge in the bus before he's really come out of the aftermath, and it's only because Louis is pinching his arm, hard. 

Nick is muttering, going about his usual morning routine, dashing out of the house. Harry looks at the clock and knows that Matt is going to skin him alive for how close he's cutting it to get to the studio. He says as much to Nick. _I'm on Finchy's side here,_ he adds. He considers dragging his phone out to text Matt and tell him to give Nick hell today, because he deserves every bit of it. 

Louis pinches him again, and Harry looks at him. He's suddenly aware of the wetness in his pants, which is probably going to surface in his jeans soon, unless he does something about it. He's dealing with the aftermath of a spectacular orgasm along with the usual post-show adrenaline letdown, and doesn't want to move. 

"You two are unbelieveable," Louis says. 

Harry blinks at him. "I didn't start it." His voice is deep and raspy and he feels completely fucked out even though he hasn't even gotten his hand on his dick properly. 

"I feel like I should make a comment about who finished it, but I already know the answer to that." 

Harry doesn't respond, just leans further back into the chair and lets his eyes drift shut. 

"You should take those trousers off before Caroline kills you. You've got to have a spare pair of pants in your bunk somewhere." 

Harry knows he's right, but he can't seem to care about it right now. They've got about five pairs of his jeans in wardrobe and they're at the end of the US tour anyway. He lets the lethargy wash through him and over to Nick, where he hopes it disrupts the show. He smiles in satisfaction when the show reviewer says that Nick sounded distracted and tired and only gives the show a seven out of ten.


End file.
